...had always taken for granted that the whole world was in a state of constantly fluctuating madness, and that a neurosis was not an illness, but a fact of life, like pimples.

If you let go of me now,” I whispered, stretching against him, “it could be another six hundred years before you find me again. Are you willing to take that risk?

.... "death turns all men into great lovers. Would that they were equally ardent while the lady was still alive!

Don't underestimate the power of events that happened a long time ago. That is the tragic flaw of modern man.

Only weak men want women to be weak.

Think about it. He drinks poison. What kind of man drinks poison? She is the one who stabs herself with his dagger. The manly way.

You owe me nothing, but I want everything.